I don't wanna be free
by AbundantiaTheWitch
Summary: A heist with Markiplier Illinois visits Yancy in prison after a long time


Illinois walked behind the guard, hardly paying attention to what he was saying. He looked around, footsteps echoing behind them. The walls were dreary, old paint starting to peel. He was getting caught up in his head. Even though he knew with the guard with him he was safe Illinois was still on edge. After all the traveling and dangers he'd been through he was surprised at his hesitancy to walk any further.

They finally stopped in front of the cell door which the guard promptly opened. It felt very formal, just following procedure.

"Number 2704 you have a visitor," he turned to Illinois. "You can go in but watch yourself." with that he walked down the hall. Illinois waited until he was out of sight before walking through the door. The man in the room was staring at him, leaning against the far wall.

"Hey, Yancy."

"Hey," he said softly. "What'r youse doing here?"

"I'm home for a few months. Wanted to see you."

"Youse shouldn't be here, Ill. It's not a good place for youse."

"Yance, please, I've wanted to see you. It's been months." Illinois began walking towards the bed, heavily sitting down and looking at Yancy.

"Youse shouldn't be here. Youse shouldn't have to see what it's like." Yancy began shaking his head. "I don'ts deserve to have youse here. Not anymore. Youse knows I've done bad things, Ill. Youse heard what I done." Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at the ground.

"Yance, I wouldn't be here if I didn't know. It doesn't matter now."

"I killed 'em, Illinois! That don't matter to youse? They was our parents. They was good people. And I killed 'em. How can that not matter." He was getting louder now, the tears finally spilling.

"They weren't good people, Yancy. I know what they did to you now." Illinois' voice was shaking.

"Youse don't know nothin'," Yancy yelled. Then his voice quieted. "They only did what was right. What I deserved."

It shattered Illinois heart to see his younger brother so broken, especially by people they had trusted. They were their parents for God's sake. They were supposed to love them.

"You didn't deserve any of that, Lamb."

Yancy bit his lip as he heard the name and shook his head once more.

"They messed up," Illinois continued. "You never deserved to have them beat you."

"They didn't! It weren't like that! I fucked up, okay? I know I did. They told me." Yancy refused to look at illinois.

"They beat you black and blue, Yancy! How could you think you deserve that?"

"They told me. Every goddamn day, that's what they said. Told me how fucked up I am, how I'm a disappointment, how they shoulda stopped after one kid."

That absolutely wrenched Illinois' heart. How could his own parents do that to his brother? What people could hate their own child?

"Youse weren't there, Ill. It was okay when youse were home but I couldn't tell youse. Mom didn't want me to go mess up youses life like hers. Most of the time youse were gone anyway. I couldn't talk to youse about it. Don't even know what I woulda said."

Illinois sat quietly, letting Yancy finally tell him everything.

"When I was in the hospital I was asked so many questions and I wanted to tell the nurses everything, 'nois, honest. But all I could see was Mom and Dad yelling at me not to tell anyone or they'd make everythin' worse. So I told the nurses what Mom wanted me to say and went straight back home with them. An' then they really stepped it up."

Illinois remembered his Mom crying over the phone. She'd told him that Yancy was in the hospital. Suicide attempt. He could still see the scars inside his arms. Yancy had a habit of scratching at them when he was upset or worried. Like now.

Illinois gently grabbed Yancy's hands and pulled them away from his arms, toward himself. Yancy looked up at him, face red and streaked with tears, eye shining and puffy. It almost shocked Illinois how young he looked. Obviously this was his younger brother but now it was like they were kids again. He was struck with a thought. When did this start?

"Yance," he began. Then he swallowed. "When did they start doing this?"

"Since I can remember," he whispered, almost ashamed, as if he should have stopped it from ever happening. His breath began speeding up as he talked about it. "It's always been like that."

"Hey, hey, look at me, Lamb. I'm here, okay? You're safe with me. Just breath." Illinois put Yancy's hands over his chest and placed his own hands over them.

"Feel my heart, okay? And my hands. They're warm, right?" He squeezed Yancy's hands gently. "You're doing great, Lamb. Keep breathing with me."

After several minutes he slowly let go of his brothers hands and wiped his tears away.

"Well done, Yance. You're okay."

"It shouldn't be like this. That's not supposed't happen. There's somethin' wrong with me, 'noisy. I'm fucked up." Yancy was gripping his arms, head hung.

"I killed our parents. What kinda person does that if theys not fucked up?"

"They're the ones who were wrong, you know. Whatever they did isn't what they were supposed to do."

"I told someone once," Yancy said suddenly. "They didn't believe me. Says youse woulda done somethin' if it was true. Dad found out 'bout it and I never told anyone else. Especially youse. Didn't wanna disappoint youse."

Illinois hated himself for never noticing what his brother was going through. Never asking if he was okay. Never being there. That's not what brothers do.

"I'm glad you killed them, Yance. I know it's horrible to want your parents to die like that but I can't stand the thought of what they did."

Yancy leaned his head on his shoulder, sighing.

"Me too. Sometimes. I hate what I did an' I'm probably gonna go to hell for it but I feel safer here. And 'sides, everyone here is family. I gots my boys and girls. And you."

The guard came to the door telling Illinois his time was up before disinterestedly standing further down the hall. Illinois stood up and hugged Yancy.

"I'll see you soon. Every third Sunday."

"Actually I was thinking and maybe it would be nice to get parole soon."

"What about your boys and girls?"

"Ah, they can handle themselves."

"What changed your mind?"

"Well youse is here now, right? And…" Yancy tapered off, rubbing his neck. "Well there was a guy here a few weeks ago. Met him in the infirmary. Names Mark. He got out a while ago and we was thinking of gettin' together… and stuff."

Illinois smiled.

"Can't wait to meet him. I've got to go now, Yance. Let me know when you're out. I want to see you."

Illinois walked out of the Penitentiary in a much more cheerful state than he went in. Yancy wasn't doing so bad. And maybe Mark would be good for him. There was hope yet.


End file.
